


#bffs4lyfe

by ADreamingSongbird



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: During Canon, Gen, Minor Character Death, Post-Canon, Pre-Canon, Self-Harm, minor victuuris, mostly platonic phichuuris, spans "college shenanigans" to "victuuri's wedding"
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-25
Updated: 2017-02-25
Packaged: 2018-09-26 19:42:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9919262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ADreamingSongbird/pseuds/ADreamingSongbird
Summary: Detroit holds a special place in Phichit Chulanont's heart, mostly because that's where he met the boy who would become his lifelong best friend.  Wait, no, scratch that - Detroit doesn't hold a special place in Phichit's heart.Yuuri Katsukidoes.





	

It’s a long walk back to their apartment, all the way across campus from the library, and then some.  And it’s cold in Detroit—there’s a cutting wind that blows right through Phichit’s scarf and hat, cold in a way the ice rink never is.  The rink has a chill that settles into your bones if you sit still and silent, but when you dance and jump and drill routines until your legs are about to fall off, the constant presence of frigid ice becomes a blessing.

Ice on the sidewalk while carrying textbooks across campus at (he checks his phone) one-forty-seven in the morning, however, is decidedly _not_ a blessing.

“Yuuri,” Phichit complains, breath fogging up in front of him.  “It’s so cold here.”

“We can make hot chocolate when we get back,” Yuuri says, calm and quiet and placating, and Phichit can’t help but envy him for having had _some_ experience with cold winters before coming to Detroit.  Bangkok never gets like this.   _Never._

“Sure,” he huffs, shivering when the wind blows again.  “When we get back.  That’s so far away… More like _if_ we get back!  I might not make it!”

“Phichit,” Yuuri laughs softly, “don’t be so dramatic.  It’s less than half an hour’s walking.”

“I won’t make it,” Phichit says seriously.  “Half an hour out in this and I’ll just drop dead.  Oh—hey, Yuuri, if I freeze to death do you think that’ll get me out of taking my physics final?”

“No,” Yuuri says, deadpan and looking straight ahead.  “No, they’ll put your frozen corpse in a chair and put a pencil in your hand and wait.  I bet there’s some kind of machine that forces your ghost back into your body, so you become a zombie for just long enough to take the test, and then you can die again.”

“That’s horrible!” Phichit wails.  “If I’m a zombie, I’ll do even worse on the test than I would normally!  I’d only have half a brain!”

Yuuri laughs.  The steam of his breath fogs up his glasses, and he sighs, pulling them off to wipe them clean on his mittens. 

“We could stop somewhere and get something hot for the walk back,” Phichit suggests suddenly.  “As a hand-warmer.  Hot chocolate, coffee, _something_.”

“What’s still _open?_   It’s two in the morning!” Yuuri objects, which is ridiculous enough to make him almost forget how cold it is out here.  _What’s open at two in the morning?_   Did he _really_ just ask that?

Phichit looks at him with scathing disbelief. 

“Yuuri,” he says.  “ _Yuuri._ We’re in _America._ ”

Shaking his head solemnly, he takes his poor, unenlightened roommate by the hand and leads him to Denny’s.

* * *

**phichit+chu**

[image]

 **phichit+chu** 2 am adventures with the roommie!! @yuuri-katsudon we’re really american now!!!! #weekbeforefinals #hedidntletmegetcoffee #stilllovehimtho

_yuuri-katsudon, +guanghongji+, iglionsia, and 1206 others like this_

* * *

A key sounds in the door.  Phichit glances at the clock and realizes ah, time sure does fly.  It’s about the right time for Yuuri to be back from his statistics final.  He shifts on the couch so that there’s room for two and tugs his blanket more tightly around his shoulders.

“I’m home!” Yuuri calls, weariness dripping from his voice and frame as he steps into the living room.  He takes one look at Phichit, wrapped in a plush blanket and staring vacantly at the wall, and dumps his schoolbag to the floor.  “…Oh no.  I’ll make tea.  Jasmine or oolong?”

“Peppermint?” Phichit asks mournfully.  “Or are we out of that?”

“I think we have a little left,” Yuuri says, already heading to the kitchen, and Phichit could kiss him for not saying a word about the physics exam.  “Do you want anything to eat, too?”

Phichit sniffles slightly.  “…Do you want to order pizza?” he asks.  “Thin crust, nothing too unhealthy, whatever.  I just could really go for hot junk food right now.”

“Get my half with bell peppers, sun-dried tomatoes, and sausage, please,” Yuuri calls by way of answer, and Phichit smiles.  It’s just one pizza, an indulgence after the worst exam of his life and the end of finals week for Yuuri.  What Ciao-Ciao doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

While Yuuri makes tea, Phichit places the order and sighs at the wait time—thirty to forty minutes.  Gross.

“Dinner’s gonna take a while,” he tells Yuuri, as soon as he walks in with two steaming mugs of minty goodness and soothing warmth. “Sorry.  I should’ve thought about ordering it sooner.”

“It’s no problem,” Yuuri assures him.  “Even if you’d thought of it sooner, I wouldn’t have been able to tell you what I wanted on my half, so this is fine.”  He sets both mugs on their coffee table (a wobbly, kinda poorly constructed affair that they bought from Craigslist and which neither of them cares about enough to repair) and then, to Phichit’s surprise, keeps walking.

“Where are you going?”

Yuuri just disappears into his room for a moment, then reappears with his laptop.  He plugs it into the HDMI cable and turns the TV on, and the moment the screen lights up, Phichit nearly bursts into tears.

The opening menu of _The King and the Skater_ , remastered in HD for the DVD release, gets him _every time_.

“Yuuri,” he breathes, wide-eyed, and then he _has_ to document this, and he whips out his camera before he can get overwhelmed by the need to dump the blanket and hug his friend to death.  It’s going on both Instagram and Snapchat, though for the moment it’s only a snap added to his story—“ _my roommate is the best ever oh my gOD”_ —and he puts his phone down to carefully edge around the coffee table, blanket cape and all, to wrap his arms around Yuuri as he navigates the menu to set English subtitles before pressing play.

“Phichit,” Yuuri laughs softly, giving him a fond look.  “Phichit, it’s okay, you don’t need to—oh god, are you crying?  Was—was today that bad?  Oh no, maybe just tea and a movie isn’t good enough—”

“Don’t forget the pizza,” Phichit mumbles, his head comfortably pressed against Yuuri’s shoulder.  Okay—well—maybe not _that_ comfortably, considering they don’t have anything to lean on and he’s slowly pushing Yuuri forward, but… a hug is a hug, and god knows Phichit needs hugs after that test.  Yikes.

“Right, right,” Yuuri says, patting his head kind of anxiously.  “Tea, movie, pizza.  Is there anything else I can do?  I’m kind of drawing a blank but I mean…”

“You can stay awake through the entire movie this time,” Phichit suggests.  It’s a lost cause, though.  He already knows it’s a lost cause.  It _definitely_ is a lost cause, on a day when Yuuri has just come back from taking his last exam.

“I can try,” Yuuri promises earnestly.  “Can we go sit on the couch?”

“Yes,” Phichit says, pushing himself to his feet and then pulling Yuuri with him.  “Hurry, though.  It’s starting!”

* * *

 

[14:32] phichit+chu:  
hey did you see the schedule of fitness classes for this month got posted

[14:33] yuuri-katsudon:  
i saw it. why? did you want to go to one of those??

[14:33] phichit+chu:  
yuuri  
we should go to the pole-dancing class

[14:34] yuuri-katsudon:  
?????????  
why????????

[14:34] phichit+chu:  
why not!!!! i bet itd be fun!!! the ballroom classes were!!!

[14:34] yuuri-katsudon:  
but

[14:36] phichit+chu:  
ive been waiting two whole minutes for you to follow up that ‘but’ with actual reasoning  
and since you havent i will provide you with a further argument in my favor:  
*butt  
think of how great itll make our butts look yuuri

[14:37] yuuri-katsudon:  
i literally do not know what to say to that

[14:37] phichit+chu:  
well hey that’s not a flat out no, i’ll take it!  
the class is on wednesdays at 4 pm, i know you don’t have class then

[14:38] yuuri-katsudon:  
i didn’t agree to this????

[14:38] phichit+chu:  
i will send you pictures of sad dogs if you don’t come

[14:39] yuuri-katsudon:  
you will have to google pictures of sad dogs to send them to me  
you’ll just hurt yourself in the process

[14:40] phichit+chu:  
youre right…….. i need u to save me from this fate of being hurt……  
the only way 2 save me is to come pole dancing with me………..

[14:41] yuuri-katsudon:  
oh my GOD phichit

[14:42] phichit+chu:  
look if you don’t we both get devastated by me googling sad dogs  
if you do we both get even better looking butts than we have now  
the choice should be obvious

[14:43] yuuri-katsudon:  
i mean i’m p sure figure skating makes a butt look pretty great already but ok……….

[14:43] phichit+chu:  
a) by that do u mean u like looking at viktor nikiforov’s butt  
b) YOU SAID OK YESSSSSSSSSSSSSS

[14:44] yuuri-katsudon:  
i do NOT spend time looking at pictures of his butt!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[14:44] phichit+chu:  
a) that sounded defensive  
b) that was so defensive u didn’t even deny saying yes to pole dancing with me  
c) i love this

[14:45] yuuri-katsudon:  
BLOCKED

[14:45] phichit+chu:  
<3

[14:45] yuuri-katsudon:  
im unblocking you for the sole purposes of sending you this heart  
<3  
and now youre blocked again

[14:46] phichit+chu:  
ill email u abt what room the pole dancing class is in then :)

[14:46] yuuri-katsudon:  
i hate you so much

[14:47] phichit+chu:  
i can also email u a pic of viktors butt if thatd make things better?

[14:47] yuuri-katsudon:  
im never making you curry again

[14:48] phichit+chu:  
IM SORRY I TAKE IT BACK I LOVE U YUURI PLS DON’T DO THIS TO ME  
ILL REPENT AND GOOGLE SAD DOGS WITHOUT SENDING U ANY

[14:49] yuuri-katsudon:  
that seems a little drastic, i don’t need you torturing yourself phichit

[14:50] phichit+chu:  
a life without ur cooking in it IS torture anyway……..  
yuuri i swear youre such good husband material??? rly sweet, nice butt, can cook

[14:51] yuuri-katsudon:  
omg…..  
(*´ω｀*)

[14:51] phichit+chu:  
and on top of that youre gonna ALSO be able to pole dance???  
whoever u marry is gonna hit the JACKPOT

[14:52] yuuri-katsudon:  
alright now im getting suspicious. are u trying to set me up with someone

[14:53] phichit+chu:  
no i would never do that without explicitly telling u im setting u up!  
besides i know ur heart is taken

[14:54] yuuri-katsudon:  
…? it is?  
that’s news to me

[14:54] phichit+chu:  
yuuri come on  
everyone knows ur already head over heels for viktor nikiforov

[14:55] yuuri-katsudon:  
i ADMIRE his SKATING!!!!!!

[14:55] phichit+chu:  
you misspelled butt

[14:56] yuuri-katsudon:  
i am about to block you for the third time in one conversation

[14:56] phichit+chu:  
i mean to be fair u never did actually block me, u just yelled ‘blocked’

[14:56] yuuri-katsudon:  
are you?? trying??? to tempt me????

[14:57] phichit+chu:  
no!!!!!!! :( :( :(  
i am just saying i’m sure viktor nikiforov would appreciate a man who can pole dance

[14:58] yuuri-katsudon:  
make that FOUR times in one conversation.  
also class is about to start so i’ll talk to you later! :)  
don’t forget to eat something before you go to practice later, there’s rice in the fridge

[14:59] phichit+chu:  
i’ll eat!!! thanks yuuri <3 have fun in class!!

* * *

 

**phichit+chu**

[image]

_iglionsia, +guanghongji+, and 1029 others like this_

**phichit+chu** i told @yuuri-katsudon my feet hurt and he wasn’t sympathetic enough, so here’s a picture of him trying and failing to reach the paper towels we tossed on top of the bookshelf #collegelyfe #wekindofranoutofcabinetspace #alsowhereisthestepstool

 **yuuri-katsudon** @phichit+chu i was definitely sympathetic!!

 **yuuri-katsudon** @phichit+chu also if you had helped me find the step stool instead of encouraging me to just stack textbooks on the rolling chair, this picture wouldn’t have happened…

 **phichit+chu** @yuuri-katsudon you didn’t get badly injured, it’s fine!! ♥

 **iglionsia** @phichit+chu @yuuri-katsudon phichit you sound like a menace to live with

 **yuuri-katsudon** @iglionsia @phichit+chu #confirmed

 **phichit+chu** @iglionsia @yuuri-katsudon umMM???? RUDE???????

 **iglionsia** @phichit+chu @yuuri-katsudon dude you encouraged the stacking of textbooks on a rolling chair. and from the fact that youre on the other side of the room when this pic was taken, you werent even holding the chair in place for him…… menace

 **phichit+chu** @iglionsia @yuuri-katsudon i came out to have a good time,,, and im honestly feeling so attacked right now,,,,,

 **yuuri-katsudon** @phichit+chu @iglionsia that sounds like what i said when i fell off the chair

 **phichit+chu** @yuuri-katsudon @iglionsia really? to me it sounded more like “FUCK”.

* * *

 

The first time Phichit saw Yuuri’s self-harm scars, a set of thin, parallel, matching lines on the inside of his wrist, was a rainy afternoon that saw them both sitting indoors.  They were enjoying the combination of pajamas, hot chocolate, and weird things from the depths of the internet, ranging from Buzzfeed’s Fuck/Marry/Kill quizzes to compilations of cat videos on YouTube, and a lot of things in between.  It was nice and cozy, sitting on Phichit’s bed and sharing a plush blanket, with a laptop in front of them and warm lights all around, when Yuuri’s sleeve happened to slip up, and… and, well, there they were.

Phichit hadn’t asked, not directly.  That would have been too forward, and he knew Yuuri would have clammed up.  But when Yuuri frantically pulled it back down and glanced at Phichit with sudden terror glinting in his eyes, obviously hoping Phichit hadn’t noticed, he couldn’t just pretend he’d seen nothing.

So he had just placed a hand on Yuuri’s knee, hopefully comforting, and smiled at him.  No words, just a silent _it’s okay I will support you no matter what_.  Yuuri, after all, has always responded better to actions than words.

Back then, Yuuri had relaxed a bit.  They’d finished watching the last half of The Princess Bride before he quietly spoke up, explained his anxiety and his depressive issues, mentioned he needed prescription medication for the panic attacks, answered Phichit’s gently probing questions about the scars and if he needed to be worried.  The first time Phichit saw Yuuri’s scars wasn’t scary.  It was controlled and gentle and left them both feeling like they could trust each other more.

The first time Phichit sees Yuuri cut is nothing like that.

He’s sure Yuuri didn’t mean for him to see, that Yuuri had no idea he’d be home so soon, but—

But the fact of the matter is, he opens the door and walks into the apartment and Yuuri is in the kitchen with a startled, guilty look in his eyes and his shoulders hunched as if he’s _afraid_ and before Phichit can form the words _what happened?_ on his lips, his eyes flick to the rivulet of blood running down Yuuri’s hand, held over the kitchen sink.

It’s red.

Stupidly, that’s the first thing he thinks.

It’s red.  Startlingly red, against Yuuri’s skin.  The bead that’s just barely not dripping from his fingertip is wine-dark, but the track it ran from his wrist to get there is scarlet, and it’s only when Yuuri lets out a tiny, strangled sound that might be a sob in disguse that Phichit realizes he’s staring.

“Sorry,” Yuuri wheezes, and oh, _god_ , he’s _shaking_.  Phichit all but drops his schoolbag to the ground and, honestly, doesn’t know what else to do, so he just surges forward and wraps his best friend in the tightest hug he can.

Yuuri freezes, tense as if braced for rejection, but then he lets out a shuddering breath and something in him breaks, because then the tears start coming and they don’t stop. 

“I’m s-sorry, I—I didn’t w-want you t-to see,” he sobs, clutching at Phichit’s shirt desperately.  “I’m sorry, I’m s-so sorry!”

“It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay,” Phichit soothes, rubbing his back (he’s talked him through panic attacks before, but never through an episode of self-harm, and is this what he’s supposed to do?  He’s never done this before, he doesn’t want to make it worse!).  “You don’t have to apologize, Yuuri, it’s okay, shhhh.”

Yuuri chokes on another sob and buries his face in the crook of Phichit’s neck.

Later, Phichit gets the antibiotic ointment while Yuuri washes the dried blood off his hand and the dried tears from his face.  Later still, they sit curled up together on the couch, Phichit with his arms and legs all protectively octopused around Yuuri, and Yuuri whispering a quiet apology into his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, soft and drained and exhausted.  “I got blood on your shirt.”

“Eh, that’s okay,” Phichit shrugs, hugging him tighter.  “It’ll wash out.  Probably.  No biggie.”

Yuuri is silent for a long moment.  He’s still, almost too still, as if he’s consciously trying to stop moving at all, and Phichit would worry but he realizes Yuuri is just thinking, thinking and mapping out what he’s feeling at this exact moment.  He’s mentioned that his therapist recommends grounding exercises, to solidify his hold on the moment, when he feels like his brain is “feeling foggy”.

“I hate the scars,” Yuuri breaks the silence again.  There’s a harder edge to his voice now, a kind of desperate steel, like he’s a knight valiantly trying to fend off tears all over again. “I hate looking at them.  And I hate myself for making more of them, honestly, but… I just…”

He shrugs helplessly, and Phichit can’t help but kiss the side of his head.  “I’m sorry, Yuuri,” he says lamely, wracking his brains for something more helpful to say.  “It’s… not _okay_ , I guess, but… the scars don’t make you a bad person or anything.”

“They’re _ugly_ ,” Yuuri whispers.  “I look at them and it reminds me I’m not good enough and I’m weak.  I wish both of my wrists looked the same.  I wish the scars would just disappear.  But there’s this… weird… it’s this sick satisfaction, from looking at them build up and thinking wow, I really _am_ fucked up in the head.”  He laughs, a sharp and humorless bark of a sound that makes Phichit’s heart twinge.  “But I don’t like anyone else seeing them.”

“You’re not weak, and you are good enough,” Phichit contradicts.  “You’re my bestest friend in the world, and I mean, it makes me sad that you’re hurting, y’know?  But it’s—it’s not your _fault_ , and, uh, I guess what I’m trying to say is, like… I’m glad you trust me enough to talk about this.”

That was a terrible, fumbled excuse for a reply.  He didn’t even address the scars.  But he has _no idea_ what to say.

“You’re my best friend, too,” Yuuri mumbles.  “Thank you for… being here.  It’s… it’s helped a lot.”

Phichit hums, gives him a tight squeeze again, and idly plays with his hair, while cogs turn in his head.  What can he say, what can he say, what can…

Yuuri has always appreciated actions over words.

And he just thought of something he could _do_.

* * *

 

[14:28] phichit+chu:  
LEO I AM DYING

[14:30] iglionsia:  
bruh u gotta give a guy warning before u invite him to ur funeral  
im eating LUNCH over here i couldve choked from shock and also died

[14:32] phichit+chu:  
d5 2e;

[14:32] iglionsia:  
um  
are you… actually dying??

[14:33] phichit+chu:  
no gdi i fell on my phone

[14:33] iglionsia:  
are u texting me from practice?????

[14:34] phichit+chu:  
i am, in fact, texting you from my bed  
WHERE I AM DYING

[14:34] iglionsia:  
why are you falling over on your bed. what

[14:34] phichit+chu:  
well i didn’t mean to???  
im attempting to make a friendship bracelet for yuuri  
and i was trying to hold the end of the loop with my foot  
and that ended badly for my balance

[14:35] iglionsia:  
omggg dude that’s so cute!! how’s it going??

[14:35] phichit+chu:  
WELL ISNT THAT THE QUESTION OF THE HOUR  
im beginning to understand why these things are so representative of friendship  
this is taking so looooooong  
OH ALSO U CANT TELL HIM!!!!! it’s a surprise

[14:36] iglionsia:  
my lips are sealed.  
do u need tips tho? i love making friendship bracelets tbh. what pattern are u using?

[14:36] phichit+chu:  
leo you are a saint thank you please help me, all tips would be appreciated

[14:37] iglionsia:  
haha no prob, bro! i’d love to help out

* * *

 

The bracelet ends up looking… decent.  It’s red and gold (yes, gold, not just yellow, because Phichit saw sparkly string in the craft section of Wal-Mart and _had_ to get it) just like the colors on Arthur’s main outfit in the King and the Skater, and it’s striped, with hearts in the middle of each stripe.  As a bonus, it’s only _slightly_ misshapen!

Phichit spent _weeks_ on this thing.

Truly, he thinks, it was a labor of love.  Even if it was also a pain in the ass.

It’s red and gold and covered in hearts and mostly shaped like it should be, and Yuuri cries when Phichit gives it to him, one warm late-spring day.

“I know I could have just bought one,” he says sheepishly, “and that would’ve looked a lot better, now that I think about it, _and_ it wouldn’t have taken nearly as long, but… I just wanted to make one, I guess?  I mean—you don’t have to wear it or anything, I get it if you don’t want to.  But I was just thinking about how you mentioned, well, you don’t like when people see your scars, and—”

He doesn’t get the chance to finish his sentence before Yuuri clumsily throws his arms around him, tears in his eyes.

“Thank you,” he says, over and over, stumbling over his words, and Phichit laughs and helps him fasten it on his arm.

They go out for ice cream together, and for the first time in … in a while, Phichit notices that Yuuri lets himself go out without wearing a long-sleeved shirt.  It makes him feel warm and glad inside, solid and firm in the knowledge that he did something _right_.

* * *

A month later, Yuuri presents him with an intricately woven friendship bracelet that puts the stripes-and-hearts to shame, with five different colors (red, blue, pink, purple, and white, chosen for no particular reason other than that Yuuri thought Phichit would like them) and a fancy, textured pattern.

“I am never taking this off, _ever_ ,” Phichit declares, holding his wrist out for the world to see as they walk to the rink together, and his heart swells when Yuuri laughs.

* * *

 

**phichit+chu**

[image]

_iglionsia, yuuri-katsudon, and 2,239 others like this_

**phichit+chu** FRIENDSHIP BRACELETS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! @yuuri-katsudon #bffs4lyfe

 **iglionsia** whoa!! those look so good, both of you did so nice!!!!

 **phichit+chu** @iglionsia thanks leo! you helped, i was LOST hahaha

* * *

 

When Phichit gets the phone call, Yuuri is still in class (he has a lab that runs late into the evening on Wednesday nights), so it’s just him, alone in the living room, trying to pretend the world isn’t collapsing in on itself.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” his sister tells him, her achingly familiar voice full of swallowed tears.  More than anything, he wants to go home, wants to be with his family right now, but there are midterms next week and airplane tickets are expensive and he _can’t_.  “Oh, Phichit, I… we’re gonna be okay, yeah?”

“I—I can’t believe it,” he chokes out, words catching in his throat.  “I—I hadn’t—we hadn’t talked for over a month—I was just so _busy_ and then—oh, _god_ ,” and he has to stop talking when his voice cracks.  Tears spill over and he rocks back and forth in a little ball, still sitting at the dining table with his homework in front of him, though he couldn’t be further from caring about it.  Guilt and grief swirl and spiral and threaten to drown him.

“She knew,” Maliwan says, more firmly than before.  “She knew you loved her, Phichit.  She—it wasn’t painful, she just passed away in her sleep.”

Phichit doesn’t know if that detail makes it any better or worse.  He imagines being home right now, imagines being the one to walk into his grandmother’s bedroom to wake her for breakfast only to reach for her hand and find it cold.  The tears come harder and faster than before, and he has to hold the phone away from his face so that he doesn’t end up sobbing into the microphone.

Maliwan is silent for a few moments, though the wistful ache is palpable on both ends.  Then she mutters a little curse under her breath.  “Little brother,” she says, apology thick in her voice.  “I’m sorry.  I have to go, Sangdao-Auntie is calling, I think it’s about getting a flight into town as soon as possible.  I’ll try to call you back later, okay?”

“Yeah,” Phichit breathes, hoping he doesn’t sound like he’s crying as hard as he is.  “Yeah, of course.  I love you.”

“I love you too,” Maliwan says, and then there’s a click and she’s gone, and he’s left alone in an apartment in the fucking United States, without even the phone call’s flimsy thread of connection to his family on the other side of the fucking world, and—

 _“Fuck,_ ” he whispers, throwing the phone away onto the couch, where it lands with a soft _thump_.  He almost wishes he hadn’t picked up, hadn’t found out his beloved Yaai is _dead_ , had kept on living in ignorant bliss and going on like everything was fine, if he can’t even go back home to say goodbye one last time!  He’ll just—he’ll have to wait and pay his respects to her ashes, whenever he finally does get the chance, and who knows when that will be—

(He pictures himself, alone, or perhaps with one of his sisters or his parents, standing in front of a funerary urn, and when he realizes he doesn’t know what the urn should look like in his imagination, he breaks down even harder.)

He cries himself hoarse, until he can’t stop shaking and his throat is dry and his eyes burn and his face feels sticky from tears.  Then he can’t stand to keep sitting there, so he gets up and washes his face and blows his nose and debates what to do with himself now, because he can’t focus on anything and that means homework is out of the question, so in lieu of anything better, he just sits back down in his chair and wraps his arms around himself and stares forlornly at the legs of the table without really seeing them.

By the time a key turns in the door and then the door turns on its hinges and Yuuri, exhausted after a long day of classes, finally gets back, Phichit has turned it into a game, counting the lines in the grain of the wood.  It’s mindless and stupid and meaningless, but he has no idea what else to do with himself, so…

“Phichit?” Yuuri asks, brow knit with concern as he drops his schoolbag and comes forward.  “Hey, are you okay?”

Phichit looks up with red-rimmed eyes and a very obviously fake smile and tries, “My grandmother just died?”

Yuuri gasps softly and then holds out his arms without a second thought.  Phichit pushes himself up from the chair and lumbers forward, his feet leaden, until his nose bumps Yuuri’s shoulder and he can clutch his best friend for support.

He thought he had cried himself out.  He was incorrect.

Eventually, though, he manages to get to a point where he’s only sniffling again, and while part of him feels like he should still be crying because she’s _dead_ and how can he only cry for like, twenty minutes, the rest of him (like the part of him that’s dehydrated and has a headache) is relieved.

“Um,” Yuuri says, rubbing his back.  “I’m so sorry, Phichit.  I, um, really suck at comforting people, but… someone doing a demonstration in class had extra fruit, so I have some tangerines?  If that would make you feel better?”

Sketchy physics lab tangerines being offered as a source of comfort, as a concept in general, is so out of left field that it actually startles a watery laugh out of Phichit.  He sniffles again, wipes his eyes, and says, “Okay,” in a really small voice, and Yuuri seems relieved.

“Okay!” he says.  “Great!  I’ll peel them, then, okay?”

He pulls back to get the tangerines out of his bag, then pauses and looks at Phichit, who sinks back onto the couch and wraps his arms around himself again.  He must really look mournful and pathetic, because Yuuri softens all over again and then scampers off to his room for a moment.  He isn’t gone long enough for Phichit to wonder why, coming back almost immediately with a plush blanket that he drapes around his shoulders before he goes to the kitchen with his physics tangerines.

“Thanks,” Phichit mumbles, eyes downcast and still watery.  “You’re a good friend, Yuuri.”

Yuuri glances at him from the kitchen.  “Of course,” he says, smiling sadly, hesitant.  “You’re my best friend, you know.  If there’s anything I can do…?”

Phichit bites his lip.  “Can… can we watch a movie or something tonight?” he asks.  “I think I’m—I think I’m in shock.  I don’t know.  I don’t want to think.”

“Yes, of course!” Yuuri thinks for a moment as he peels the tangerines. “We can watch _My Neighbor Totoro_ ,” he decides.  “I still can’t believe you haven’t seen it, and we do need to finish watching every Studio Ghibli movie like we said we would.  Does that sound okay?”

“Yeah,” Phichit manages, pulling the blanket more tightly around his shoulders.  “I… yeah.  Thanks, Yuuri.”

Yuuri comes out of the kitchen with the tangerine slices arranged neatly in a saucer and places it on the dining table, then hugs Phichit again.  “Of course,” he says again, fingers deftly stroking through Phichit’s hair in slow, soothing, repetitive circles. “You’re very welcome.”

* * *

 

**phichit+chu**

[image]

_iglionsia, yuuri-katsudon, +guanghongji+, christophe-gc, and 3,204 others like this_

**phichit+chu** as you can see, my grandmother had the most beautiful smile in the world. i’m going to miss her a lot. ♥

 **+guanghongji+**  @phichit+chu I’m so sorry for your loss, Phichit. *hugs*

* * *

 

Phichit is at practice when it hits him, again, that his grandmother is dead and will not ever answer the phone if he calls home.  Since he doesn’t live with his family right now, it’s taking a while to sink in, and he keeps finding himself overwhelmed by grief at random intervals; right now, out on the ice, trying to lose himself in the feeling of just _skating_ , was… not his brain’s best timing.

He breaks out of the spin he was attempting and promptly loses his balance, wobbling dangerously for a second before he just falls, catching himself on his hands and wincing when his hip slams into the ice.  That’s gonna bruise.

She’s _dead._

Uncaring, he squeezes his stinging eyes shut and lies down on his side, pressing the heels of his hands to his face to block out the sobs that choke their way up his throat.  She’s _dead, she’s dead, she’s dead._

“Phichit!” 

It’s Ciao-Ciao.  He sounds worried.

“Phichit?  Are you hurt?  Talk to me!”

He probably should respond, but honestly, his mind is hardly in the present.  He _could_ try to focus, but that would mean ignoring all these mental pictures of playing with Yaai when he was little, would mean pushing aside all the memories of Skype calls to his family while in America, would mean focusing on something other than his dead grandmother, and… and he isn’t ready to do that, yet.

“Yuuri,” he hears Ciao-Ciao say.  “Yuuri, can you get him up?  He needs to get off the ice,” and vaguely registers that it’s okay to keep lying here, since Ciao-Ciao isn’t talking to him anymore.  That’s good.

Someone skates up behind him, really close.  And then there are hands on his shoulders, pulling him into a sitting position, and oh, it’s Yuuri.  Yuuri knows what’s happening.

“Phichit,” Yuuri says softly, and Phichit curls into his arms and chokes on his own tears.

“She w-wanted to come,” he sobs, “to my next competition, to cheer me on—” and he breaks off, crying brokenly into Yuuri’s chest.  He clutches two fistfuls of his best friend’s shirt and thinks he hears Ciao-Ciao asking Yuuri something, and maybe Yuuri replies, but then Yuuri squeezes him tight and strokes his hair.

“Phichit,” he murmurs.  “Can you stand?  We just need to get off the ice, that’s all.  Is that okay?”

Phichit tries to take a deep breath and manages to give himself the hiccups.  “Okay,” he whispers, hot tears still streaming down his cheeks.  Yuuri helps him stand, shaking and still crying, and guides him with slow, careful movements, until they reach the edge of the rink and Phichit realizes he’s shivering from the cold, not just the tears.

Ciao-Ciao is waiting for them, and as if he already knows that, he drapes a jacket around Phichit’s shoulders.  It isn’t Phichit’s jacket.  It takes him a minute to realize it’s Ciao-Ciao’s.

“Thank you,” he whispers, not trusting his voice as far as actually speaking goes.  He’s still crying.

“It’s no problem, Phichit,” Ciao-Ciao says kindly.  He rests a hand on Phichit’s shoulder reassuringly, and Phichit clutches the jacket around his shoulders and whimpers slightly.  Yuuri, standing at his side, makes a little sound of distress and wraps his arms around him.

“I miss her,” Phichit manages.  “I k-know it’s like, nothing _changed_ because I d-don’t see her that often anyway, b-but she’s _g-gone_ and it—it feels so wrong!”

He’s just babbling at this point.  But it’s just not fair!  She was going to come to his next competition because she missed him and she wanted to see him and it’s like it only just hit him that that’s not going to happen, that he’s going to compete without her in the stands like normal, instead of with her _there_ , that the competition he’s been training for (just now, he was training, _for that_ ) is going to be… nothing.

Because she won’t be there.

Because she’s dead.

She’s _dead._

“I don’t know what to do,” he hears Yuuri say to Ciao-Ciao, despairing.  “I’ve—I’ve never dealt with loss before, Coach, how do I help him?”

Ciao-Ciao sighs, patting Phichit’s head as he cries into Yuuri’s shoulder.  “Just… be there for him,” he says.  “I don’t think loss ever gets, well, _easier_ to deal with.  He’s in shock right now.  If he needs it, maybe go with him to the campus counseling center.  The bottom line, though, I think, is that he just needs time.  There’s no magic wand to make it better, you know?”

Yuuri sighs.  “Yeah,” he says.  “That makes sense.”

“I miss her,” Phichit whispers, and Yuuri just holds him tighter.  There’s not a lot else he can do.

* * *

The competition is forgettable.  He doesn’t do particularly well.  Yuuri, who found him crying again in the changing room afterwards, tells him he’s grieving and that’s alright, and then takes him out for ice cream.

Phichit doesn’t really know what he did to deserve a friend like Yuuri, but he’s glad he has him.

* * *

 

Time passes, and the grief grows easier to deal with.  He still misses her, but it’s more of a dull, quiet ache than a sharp, stabbing one, and it becomes easier and easier to laugh again.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better,” Yuuri says one day, in a pause between songs as they dance to Beyoncé while making dinner.

Phichit shrugs slightly.  “She wouldn’t want me to be sad all the time,” he says, and it’s true.

On Friday, after class, he and Yuuri meet up with Laila, their music major friend, and her roommate Nidhi, and they all go bowling together.  Phichit is absolutely terrible at it, Yuuri gets the hang of it surprisingly quickly, and Laila absolutely demolishes everyone.  She gets three strikes in a row and screams “TURKEY!” loudly enough that Yuuri jumps and almost drops his ball on his foot.

Nidhi nudges Phichit.  “Just you wait,” she says conspiratorially.  “I’m gonna beat you out for that fourth place spot, Chulanont.”

Phichit scoffs.  “As if,” he says.  “You got all of _four pins_ down last time.  I only hit _three_.”

“Watch me get two gutter balls,” she replies dryly, getting up now that it’s her turn.  Laila holds her hands up for a high five as she comes to sit back down, and Nidhi whoops and obliges her enthusiastically.  “By the way,” she calls over her shoulder.  “Your hijab is super cute today, Laila!”

Laila bursts out laughing.  “Thanks!  But if you think compliments are gonna make me go easy on you, maybe you should’ve started _before_ I bowled the turkey.”

“What does a turkey have to do with this?” Yuuri asks Phichit in a low whisper, as if he’s embarrassed that he has no idea.

Phichit shrugs.  “We can google it,” he says.  “This place has free wi-fi.”

Laila laughs at them.  “You could’ve asked me, too,” she says.  “I’m right here!  Hello!  A turkey is just the term for when you get three consecutive strikes.  So it’s like strike, double, turkey.  I dunno why, really, but that’s what it’s called!”

Yuuri adjusts his glasses in that way he does when he has no idea what he’s supposed to say and he’s trying to buy time to think of words.  “Fascinating?”

“Oh my god,” Laila snorts.  “You sound like Spock, Yuuri.”

“He’d definitely be a blueshirt,” Phichit says, grinning.  “You’ve seen Star Trek, right, Yuuri?”

“In bits and pieces,” Yuuri says.  “My parents watched it when they were younger, and I’ve seen some with them, but not everything…”

“Alright.  We’re having a Star Trek night after this,” Laila decides.  “Nidhi!  We gotta do an Old Trek marathon over dinner, these guys aren’t up to speed!”

“Whaaaaaat?!” Nidhi calls.  She makes direct eye contact with Phichit, then turns around and tosses her ball straight into the gutter.

“That’s cheating!” Phichit cries, laughing.  “You have to _try_ for a high score in order to _actually_ win the last place spot!”

“You guys are competing for last place?” Yuuri asks, nonplussed.

“Well, it’s not like we’re getting in first,” Nidhi jokes, coming back to her seat.  “Your turn, Chulanont.”

Phichit bowls two gutter balls without even trying.

“See?” he asks Nidhi, returning to his seat.  _“That’s_ how it’s done.”

“Sure thing,” Nidhi agrees.  “You’ve really got talent there, I gotta give you that.”

Yuuri catches Laila’s eye and shakes his head.  Phichit playfully shoves him, not hard, just enough to knock him off balance a little bit, and Yuuri yelps.

A few hours later, the four of them are in Phichit and Yuuri’s living room, squeezed onto the couch with a good old American, greasy, unhealthy pizza as Mr. Spock sobs mathematically.  Phichit savors every bite.

“Don’t tell Ciao-Ciao,” he whispers to Yuuri.

“Not a word,” Yuuri agrees.  “I hope he doesn’t follow you on Instagram.”

Phichit freezes, eyes going comically wide.  “Does he _have_ an Instagram?”

“I’m gonna come watch you practice sometime just to meet your coach and make him get an Insta, in case he doesn't have one,” Nidhi jokes.  Phichit smacks her with a pillow.

* * *

 

**phichit+chu**

[image]

_yuuri-katsudon, iglionsia, and 2,359 others like this_

**phichit+chu** #startrek night with friends! we definitely ate a super healthy dinner before watching netflix :) #collegelife

 **coach-celestino** @phichit+chu Super healthy dinner? :-)  Glad 2 hear it!

 **phichit+chu** OH MY GOD HE TEXTS WITH NOSES

* * *

 

[18:04] yuuri-katsudon:  
did we need anything other than eggs, milk, garlic, onions, and oil?

[18:05] phichit+chu:  
uhhh lemme check  
we’re almost out of cheese!!!

[18:05] yuuri-katsudon:  
alright, i’ll pick some up on the way home! want anything else?

[18:06] phichit+chu:  
could you get chocolate chips? i’m in the mood for cookies tonight

[18:07] yuuri-katsudon:  
oh yes cookies sound great, i’ll get those! see you soon, call me if you think of anything else!

[18:07] phichit+chu:  
will do!  
ill put on tea now so itll be ready when u get here. should i make rice too?

[18:08] yuuri-katsudon:  
yes please!!!!!! ;o;

[18:08] phichit+chu:  
haha you got it  
see you soon!!!

* * *

**phichit+chu**

[image]

_yuuri-katsudon, iglionsia, +guanghongji+, and 2,103 others like this_

**phichit+chu** MY SMOL SON @yuuri-katsudon IS GOING TO THE GRAND PRIX FINAAALLLLL AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA GOOD LUCK YUURI WE LOVE YOUU!!!!!!!!!

 **yuuri-katsudon** @phichit+chu !!!!!! aaa thank you!!!! i hope i can make you all proud, thank you for supporting me, everyone!!! (also phichit i’m older than you)

 **+guanghongji+** @yuuri-katsudon i can’t believe you have lived with @phichit+chu for this long and you still don’t actually post your own pictures on instagram, they’re all from him haha

 **phichit+chu** @+guanghongji+ i’m wearing him down don’t you worry. also @yuuri-katsudon you’re still my son

* * *

[02:21] yuuri-katsudon:  
phichit  
youre probabyl asleep right now but  
are you htere

[02:22] phichit+chu:  
yup!!! whats up, how’s the GPF going :D

[02:22] yuuri-katsudon:  
i  
hsgdj  
cant breathe

[02:23] phichit+chu:  
shit okay whats going on  
can you do some of those grounding exercises?  
find 5 things that are green around you?

[02:24] yuuri-katsudon:  
vicchan died  
csr accidetn  
fuck

[02:24] phichit+chu:  
oh fuck. okay. can i call you?

[02:25] yuuri-katsudon:  
yes  
please

_[Call to: yuuri-katsudon. Duration 36:49]_

* * *

Phichit goes with Yuuri to the airport, the day he leaves for Japan again.  Yuuri isn’t okay.  It’s achingly obvious, in his face and his body language and his voice and _everything_ —everything about him just screams _I’m tired I’m sad please help me_ , but no amount of hugs or reassurance are helping.  The help Yuuri needs isn’t the help Phichit can give him.

It hurts to know that, but it’s true.  The help Yuuri needs can only come from within himself.  He has to forgive himself for “failing” at the GPF, for failing Vicchan, for a thousand and one other things he blames himself for, because that’s the only way he can drop the burden of grief and guilt on his shoulders, but it still hurts to see him like this.

So here they are, sitting in the back of a cab with hands clasped so tightly it’s like they’re scared to let go.

“I’m going to miss you,” Yuuri says in that quiet, sad monotone that’s pretty much been the sole voice he’s spoken in since returning from Sochi.  He’s looking out the window as if the grey Michigan sky holds the answers to his questions, and Phichit’s heart lurches perilously.  “I’m sorry.”

“Are you apologizing for missing me?” Phichit asks, swallowing the lump in his throat.  He tries to laugh, and it comes out watery.  “I—I’m going to miss you so much, Yuuri, you _better_ keep in touch, okay?  I mean it, or—or I’ll ditch Ciao-Ciao and fly to Japan myself to hunt you down!  Your mom friended me on Facebook, I will _find you_ , you hear me?”

Yuuri chokes out a strangled little laugh, and he turns from the window to look at Phichit.  “I hear you,” he says, squeezing Phichit’s hand.  “I’ll keep in touch—but the way you say it, I shouldn’t.  I’d _like_ it if you came—” and he cuts himself off, shaking his head.  “Sorry.  That’s selfish of me.  You have practice and so many other things to take care of, _especially_ if you’re moving back to Thailand…”

“I haven’t fully decided on that yet,” Phichit admits.  “I probably will, though.  I don’t think I want to renew our lease, if it’s not _our_ lease anymore, you know…?”

The thought brings tears to his eyes.  Their lease will end soon, and the day is going to come when he’s going to move out of that apartment with all its memories and close the door on it, _forever_.  It already looks so empty without Yuuri’s things in the kitchen or living room, and his bedroom is _barren_.

“Yeah,” Yuuri breathes.  “I know.”

When they get to the airport, Phichit helps Yuuri with his luggage, hauling suitcases through the check-in line and helping Yuuri get the appropriate tags on each bag.  Then, all too soon, there are no more suitcases, and all that’s left is Yuuri himself.

Phichit almost tackles him to the floor with a hug, clinging to his best friend in the entire world who is _leaving_ and who he won’t see again in person for _who knows how long_ and who is _sad, sad, sad_ and who Phichit really, really wants to make happy but can’t.

“I’m gonna miss you _so much_ ,” he whispers, willing himself not to cry, because if he cries, Yuuri will start crying, and then they’re just going to be a pair of sobbing wrecks standing outside the international terminal.  “I love you, Yuuri.”

“I love you, too,” Yuuri mumbles into his shoulder, barely coherent, and Phichit _knows_ he’s fighting back tears.  “I’ll miss you—but we’ll Skype, and we’ll figure out how to get around the time difference, okay?”

“Yeah, I know,” Phichit breathes.  “I know.  Okay.  Okay.”

He finally withdraws, keeping his hands on Yuuri’s shoulders and smiling tearfully.  Yuuri takes a deep, shaky breath and tries his hardest to smile back, and he looks _so sad_ that Phichit almost bursts into tears right then and there.

“Go on,” he says instead, patting his best friend’s cheek.  “Go on, I don’t want you to miss your flight, and you still have to get through security, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Yuuri says, reluctantly pulling back.  He bows his head as he picks up his fallen backpack and hefts it, pulling it on with a sigh.  “Okay.  I’ll—I’ll see you later, Phichit.”

“Bye,” Phichit says, forcing himself to be cheerful for both of them. “Have a good flight, text me when you land!”

“I will,” Yuuri says.  He hesitates for a moment, as if debating whether to go for another hug, but then wrenches himself away and walks quickly, jerkily, into the line for security.  Phichit stands outside and smiles at him, waiting and waiting until the airport eventually swallows him.  It’s only then that he allows himself to cry.

* * *

 

**phichit+chu**

[image]

_yuuri-katsudon, iglionsia, +guanghongji+, and 3,283 others like this._

**phichit+chu** #tbt that time @yuuri-katsudon and i took a trip to the beach at #LakeErie !!!! i miss you bestie <3

 **yuuri-katsudon** i miss you too!!  <3

 **+guanghongji+** that is one impressive sand castle. wow.

* * *

They meet up again in the hotel lobby, the afternoon before the Cup of China.

“In this relationship,” Phichit says, slinging his arm around Yuuri’s shoulders, “he’s the impulse control, and I’m the one who cuts all the sleeves off my shirts when he’s not around.”

“You _didn’t_ ,” Yuuri starts, horrified, but Phichit quickly shakes his head no.

“It was just an example,” he reassures, patting Yuuri’s cheek as Viktor Nikiforov— _The_ _Viktor Nikiforov_ , of all people, who is also _Yuuri’s coach_ , and Phichit is still wrapping his head around that—looks on with polite bewilderment.  “Most of my clothes are still intact!”

It’s startlingly easy to slip back into talking just like they’ve never been apart, like they’ve never stopped living together.  It makes Phichit’s heart ache (in a good way).  He’s _missed_ Yuuri.

“Most?” Yuuri asks, with a long-suffering sigh and everything, just like Phichit knew he would.  He grins.

“I did cut the sleeves off two shirts,” he admits.  “I wanted to see how it’d look, but on the first one I didn’t think to fold it in half so the cuts weren’t symmetric and that threw the entire thing off.  So I had to try again, and that’s why the second one happened.”

“Phichit,” Yuuri groans.  

“See?” Phichit asks, flashing The Viktor Nikiforov his most winning smile.  “He’s the impulse control.”

“Yes, I can tell,” The Viktor Nikiforov says, looking back and forth between the two of them.  Phichit grins and Yuuri sighs again.  “I wonder if I have any shirts that could be improved by removing the sleeves…”

“NO!” Yuuri cries, jumping away from Phichit to wave his hands frantically.  “No, don’t you even _think_ about it!  _Phichit_ , stop being a bad influence!”

“Me?” Phichit asks, the picture of innocence.  He’s enjoying this far too much, and he knows it.  Yuuri knows it, too, which is the best part.

“Yes, you!”  Yuuri prods him with a finger, which Phichit grabs.  He pries the rest of Yuuri’s fingers apart so he can interlace his own between them, and Yuuri sighs a sigh that’s clearly meant to cover up a fond laugh.  Phichit squeezes his hand and beams, while Yuuri just gives him a look of fond exasperation as if they’ve never been apart.

“I would _never,_ ” Phichit tells him, playing up the charm.  “Only positive influences to be found here!”

“Yuuri,” The Viktor Nikiforov interrupts, a smooth, teasing tone in his voice.  Phichit recognizes that tone purely because he uses it with Yuuri, too.  Apparently, his best friend is just easy to tease.  “How come you never let _me_ hold your hands like that?”

“You—what—well, I can’t, I’m already holding Phichit’s hand!” Yuuri blusters. “Besides, what are you even talking about?  You’ve definitely held my hand before.”

“You have two hands,” The Viktor Nikiforov persists, smiling winsomely.

Yuuri has a stubborn streak when he’s trying to prove a point.  Phichit is not sure if The Viktor Nikiforov has realized this yet, given how this conversation is going, but he’s not at all surprised when Yuuri splutters for an instant and then grabs Phichit’s other hand with a pointed look.

“Oh, Yuuri!  This is so _romantic_ ,” Phichit immediately exclaims, dropping his right hand to wrap it around him to tug him closer as dramatically as he can.  “It’s like when we took all those dance classes together back in the day!”

Yuuri starts laughing at the mention of the dance classes, no doubt remembering—well.  Remembering lots of things.  Phichit takes advantage of this to sweep him away, twirling down the the carpet to the coner of the room in some kind of improvised… improvised _something_ that’s roughly based on a Viennese waltz, if one manages to mess up a V-waltz bad enough to try to do it in four instead of three.

“By the way,” he remarks cheerfully, when they’re far enough to be out of earshot (Yuuri is doing a surprisingly good job of keeping up, despite the weirdness of the footwork), “you never told me you’ve been holding hands with _Viktor Nikiforov_.  I get to be your best man, right?”

Yuuri turns _bright red_ , trips over his own feet, and falls directly into Phichit’s arms, and Phichit is laughing too hard to keep them both upright, so they end up in a heap on the floor in the hotel lobby, Yuuri wailing something about _don’t say that_ and _Phichit shut up_ while Phichit just wraps his arms around him and laughs and laughs until his stomach hurts.

* * *

 

[22:09] phichit+chu:  
hey

[22:10] yuuri-katsudon:  
hey  
you were watching rostelecom weren’t you

[22:10] phichit+chu:  
yeah ofc. you ok?

[22:11] yuuri-katsudon:  
im fine

[22:11] phichit+chu:  
surejan.png

[22:12] yuuri-katsudon:  
did you just type out the words “surejan.png”

[22:12] phichit+chu:  
i sure did! are you avoiding answering my question?

[22:12] yuuri-katsudon:  
i answered. i said im fine

[22:13] phichit+chu:  
i don’t believe you.  
what happened? why wasn’t viktor there?

[22:13] yuuri-katsudon:  
makkachin almost died  
i made him go back  
its fine. im fin,e

[22:14] phichit+chu:  
oh.  
yuuri… :(  
<3  
what’s going on now, is there anything i can do?

[22:14] yuuri-katsudon:  
im heading to the airport now  
…if youre not busy, can i call?  
only if youre not busy though i don’t want to bother you if you are

[22:15] phichit+chu:  
im not busy!

_[Call from yuuri-katsudon.  Duration 20:39]_

[22:36] phichit+chu:  
good luck at the airport, haha. i love you <3

[22:36] yuuri-katsudon:  
i love you too thank you for helping me  
im in line for security now so i might reply slow

[22:37] phichit+chu:  
no worries! im just chillin  
here im going to send you pictures of hamsters in the meantime  
[image326.jpg]  
[image327.jpg]  
[image328.jpg]

]22:46] yuuri-katsudon:  
omg… omg theyre so cute… thank u

[22:48] phichit+chu:  
[image329.jpg]  
she loves you!

[22:51] yuuri-katsudon:  
please tell her i love her too

[22:52] phichit+chu:  
[image330.jpg]  
a hamster smooch, delivered by yours truly

[22:59] yuuri-katsudon:  
haha, as if you need an excuse to smooch your hamsters

[23:00] phichit+chu:  
TRU  
[image331.jpg]  
more hamster smoochies!!!

[23:07] yuuri-katsudon:  
im saving all of these and im going to look at them until i fall asleep on the plane

[23:08] phichit+chu:  
GOOD. hamsters are good for the soul  
[image332.jpg]

[23:20] yuuri-katsudon:  
okay i finally made it to my gate, boarding starts in literally ten minutes that was so stressful

[23:21] phichit+chu:  
omfg??? im glad you made it on time, yikes

[23:22] yuuri-katsudon:  
yeah!!!!!!!!! i was scared i was gonna miss my flight aaaaaa

[23:23] phichit+chu:  
its ok! you made it, no worries now.  
[image333.jpg]  
have some more hamster therapy?

[23:25] yuuri-katsudon:  
hamster therapy is all i need at this point  
thank you  
you are the best best friend on the planet

[23:26] phichit+chu:  
aww yuuri!!! <3  
however,,, i cannot be,, because that title……… is yours,  
<3

[23:27] yuuri-katsudon:  
no its you!!!!!!

[23:28] phichit+chu:  
[image334.jpg]  
three out of three hamsters agree, yuuri katsuki is the best bestie!

[23:30] yuuri-katsudon:  
don’t bring your hamsters into this, that’s not fair arguing

[23:31] phichit+chu:  
all’s fair in love and war

[23:38] yuuri-katsudon:  
ok im on the plane, i will have to put my phone away soon

[23:39] phichit+chu:  
alrighty! have a good flight, makkachin will be fine, everything will be ok <3  
ttyl!!!

[23:40] yuuri-katsudon:  
<3

* * *

 **phichit+chu  
** Barcelona, Spain

[image]

_+guanghongji+, v-nikiforov, yuuri-katsudon, and 3,452 others like this_

**phichit+chu** in Barcelona with my faaaaavorite babe!!!! @yuuri-katsudon #bffreunion

 **v-nikiforov** @phichit+chu awwwwww!!!!!!! you’re so cute here! both of you (but especially yuuri, no offense)

 **phichit+chu** @v-nikiforov none taken! im glad to see u have ur priorities straight

 **christophe-gc** @phichit+chu @v-nikiforov begging your pardon, phichit, but his priorities are pretty much as far from straight as they can get.

 **phichit+chu** @v-nikiforov @christophe-gc TRUUUUUUUUUUUU LOL

* * *

 

“Congratulations on that silver, Yuuri!” Phichit cries, hugging him.  “You were _amazing_ out there!  Just watch out, I’m coming for you next year!”

Yuuri laughs brightly, hugging him back.  “I’ll be sure to work hard,” he promises.  “I already know you’re going to give me a run for my money!”

“You can bet on it,” Phichit promises, and then grins wickedly.  “You can bet _on it, bet on it, bet on it, bet on it_ —”

Yuuri claps a hand over his mouth.  “We are at a _professional banquet_ after the _Grand Pro Final_ and you start singing High School Musical at me?” he asks incredulously.

“I’m going to lick your hand,” Phichit warns him cheerfully, voice muffled, and Yuuri yanks his hand away.

“You know, dearest,” Viktor says, sliding his arm around Yuuri’s waist, “I don’t think you of all people have much leeway to criticize what is and isn’t banquet-appropriate behavior.”

He’s teasing, but Yuuri blushes furiously.  “I don’t even _remember_ that,” he says miserably, hiding his face in his hands.  “I just—oh my _god_.”

“Can we look forward to a repeat performance?” Viktor asks eagerly, as if he’s some kind of puppy begging for an extra treat, and Phichit almost snorts out loud at the thought.  He could Snapchat this, or turn it into a clickbait article: _Living Legend Viktor Nikiforov Really Wants My Best Friend To Lose His Pants, What Happens Next Will Shock You_.

“ _No_ ,” Yuuri says emphatically, and pushes his boyfriend away.

“That’s a pity,” Christophe drawls, shaking his head.  “I even have a pole ready for this year, you know.”

“I’m not hearing this,” Yuuri says, shaking his head.  “And if you’re both planning to get me so exasperated with you all that I go drink to gain the patience to deal with you, I see what you’re doing and I won’t do it.”

“Would we _ever_ do that?” Viktor and Christophe ask, paragons of virtue that they are.

Yuuri frowns at them, unconvinced.  “ _Yes_.”

“Oi!” 

Everyone turns at the shout to see Yuri Plisetsky stalking toward them with a face like he just bit into a lemon that had been dropped in a barrel of the world’s cheapest corner store tequila (disgusting, Phichit knows, from college experience) and left to stew for a while.

“You assholes better not be getting the Katsudon over there smashed again,” Plisetsky growls, glaring up at Viktor and Christophe.  “I fucking saw _enough_ last time.  It was bad enough without you slobbering all over each other like you do already.”

“You call him _Katsudon?_ ” Phichit blurts out, because that’s _adorable_ —

“Fuck you, last place,” Plisetsky glares.  Phichit winces.  That’s kind of a sore point, ouch, but okay.

“Yurio!” Yuuri reprimands sharply. “That’s over the line.”

Plisetsky scoffs, but when Yuuri doesn’t back down and just folds his arms, waiting, he huffs and glares some more and finally mutters, “Sorry.  Whatever.”

“No harm done,” Phichit says quickly, glancing back and forth between the two of them.  Plisetsky listens to Yuuri, huh?  _And_ has a nickname for him?  That’s cute.  And he’s not really mad that he got called out for being in last place.  After all, it means the only way to go from here is up!

“Thank you,” Yuuri says.  “Also, I’m not getting drunk tonight, so you don’t have to worry about that.”

Christophe and Viktor make simultaneous noises of despair.

“I said, I’m _not_ ,” Yuuri frowns at both of them.

“But _Yuuri_ ,” Viktor protests, “this banquet is so _boring_ otherwise, you know?”

Yuri Plisetsky lets out a disgusted bark of laughter and grabs Yuuri by the arm.  “We’re going somewhere else,” he announces, all but hauling Yuuri away.  “Somewhere without you _assholes_ and your alcohol bullshit ideas.”

Yuuri just laughs and lets himself be tugged away into the crowd, leaving Phichit with Viktor and Christophe.

“What a pity,” Christophe sighs.

“The night is still young,” Viktor consoles him.  “Maybe if we both get drunk we can persuade him to join us.”

They both laugh, and Phichit cracks a grin.  “Drunk Yuuri is really something else,” he says.  “We went to a friend’s party once, and… _wow._ ”

“Do you have pictures?” Viktor asks immediately, with the hopeful puppy look again, and Phichit laughs.

“I do,” he says, “buuuut I’ve been sworn to secrecy when it comes to showing them to anyone who wasn’t there when it happened.”

Viktor deflates.  Then he brightens again.  “I’m glad,” he says, “that Yuuri has such a good friend.  He deserves people who are good to him.”

“He does,” Phichit agrees readily.  “And that’s why I’m still not showing you, even if you butter me up by calling me nice things.”

Christophe laughs, deep and low.  “It was worth a shot, hm, Viktor?”

“Tell you what,” Phichit says.  “You marry him, and _then_ I’ll show you all the embarrassing photos I’ve ever taken.  Deal?”

Viktor positively lights up, looking in the direction Yuuri vanished in and then dropping his gaze to the ring on his finger (“It’s more like a promise ring.  Um, for now, at least,” Yuuri had said earlier, blushing and smiling ever so radiantly) with the softest smile Phichit has ever seen.  “I think,” he says, “I can do that.”

* * *

 

Of course, when the day comes, he _is_ Yuuri’s best man, and nobody is surprised.

He steals Yuuri for a dance at one point during the reception, while Chris is twirling Viktor across the floor to the accompaniment of lots of laughter from everyone watching.

“Do you not want to dance with me?” they hear Chris ask, playfully sorrowful, as he dips Viktor over his arm.  “I’m _wounded!_ ”

“No offense, my dear friend,” Viktor sighs dramatically, draped backwards and making no move to stand up again as he watches Yuuri and Phichit, “but you’re not _my husband_.”

Yuuri lets out a peal of bright laughter.  Phichit spins him around and sticks his tongue out at Viktor, who looks almost criminally affronted.

“He’s mine for the rest of this song!” Phichit yells victoriously.

“Viktor, stand up or I _will_ drop you,” Chris adds, grinning, and Phichit laughs.

“You’re all ganging up on me,” Viktor sniffs, and then hauls himself upright and dips Chris almost immediately.  Phichit and Yuuri continue their circuit around the dance floor, and Phichit’s back is turned but Viktor and Chris must have done something _else_ ridiculous, because Yuuri breaks into giggles again, watching over Phichit’s shoulder.  His smile eventually fades into a mellow, content one, and Phichit squeezes his hand.

“You look really happy,” he says, warmth squeezing at his stomach.  “I’m glad.  You deserve it.”

“I am happy,” Yuuri says, beaming.  “I’m really, really happy.  Thank you for being here.  Always.”

Phichit beams back.  “Of course,” he says.  “What are best friends for?”

“Everything,” Yuuri says, and laughs.  “Everything.  You were right, you know,” he adds, shaking his head, and Phichit has to strain to hear him over the music as they turn another corner.

“I know!” Phichit assures him, grinning.  “What was I right about?”

Yuuri rolls his eyes.  “You said I’d thank you later for taking so many pictures!”

“Oh, right,” Phichit says.  He vaguely remembers that conversation, back in Detroit.  “I knew that, all along, they’d come in handy the day you got married!  See, it just goes to show you, the best friend is always right!”

“Always right?  I don’t know about that.  My best friend thought it would be a good idea to try and use a clothes iron as a hot plate to make pancakes,” Yuuri deadpans.

“That was a _one-time thing_ ,” Phichit protests, “and for the record it _would_ have worked if I’d gotten the iron to stay still!  Everything was going great until it fell!”

“My point still stands,” says Yuuri, and then grins as he twirls Phichit under his arm.  “Unlike your iron.”

Phichit makes the most comically affronted face he can muster.  “Just for that, I’m stealing a chunk of your wedding cake.”

“Please do,” Yuuri says.  “I don’t think we have enough room in the fridge for that thing, not if we _also_ want to keep any leftovers from dinner tonight.”

“Wait, seriously?”  He blinks, then laughs.  “I mean, I’ll definitely help you get cake off your hands if you need it!”

Yuuri smiles wryly.  “What are best friends for, right?”

Phichit nods vigorously and squeezes his hands again.  “Exactly,” he says.  “What are best friends for?"

_(Everything.)_

**Author's Note:**

> please excuse any errors with the time frame!!! I didn't have time to re-watch half the series to make sure I got the exact timing for some of the in-between-canon bits right so I'm hoping the suspension of disbelief can carry it through haha
> 
> anyway I hope you enjoyed this little oneshot, alternatively titled "the author is in college and misses her best friend and decided to live vicariously through Phichit"! thanks for reading! ♥


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